Cold
by I Like Cinnamon Rolls
Summary: He was always going to be her knight in silver armour, and she was always going to be his princess.


Jackson Overland loved life.

He cherished it. It was given to him as a sacred gift, and he never planned to waste it. He never had any regrets on anything, and he would never look back when he walked. You only had half a century to live it, after all. Only fifty short years to run, to laugh, to hope, to dream. He made sure he did it well. He looked at himself as a castle full of unexplored corridors and locked doors to crack open, and would never fail to be elated every time he made a new turn. Every little skill that he had possessed, he transformed into an art, always striving to perfect. He was happy for his downfalls; they would always be accounted for by something good. He was skinny, but he was lithe and agile. He was easily broken by rejection, but he was also fiercely loyal. He was reckless, but he was brave.

Jack was never one for routine; things change every day, why must his schedule be the same? He would always find something new and exciting to occupy his time. His favourite season was winter, as he had more time for fun since there were no crops that needed tending or fields to plow. Sometimes he would spend the day hunting with his father; if he was lucky, he would be able to spear a rabbit or two. He would make balls of snow and toss them at his friends. He would make balls of ice and hurl them at his enemies. He would crouch down on the ground with his little sister and make little snow sculptures. She would always spend a copious amount of care on something that turned out slightly terrifying. He was always quite perturbed by them. He smiled and ruffled her hair anyway. He would 'borrow' his best friend's anvil and make skates out of animal hide and steel for him and his friends. Nothing beat the feeling of gliding around on beautiful, freshly frozen ice.

He had grown up in a privileged family; not exactly wealthy, but a lot better off than most people in such a small town as Burgess. His father was an apothecary. Food came easily, and he could afford some small luxuries, such as maple candy every so often. He loved the way his sister's little eyes would light up when he walked through the door with a little cloth bag in his hand, even though she was always happy to see him anyway. She acted like he was her hero, and sometimes, he would pretend he was, too. He would be a brave knight in silver armour, and she would be a captured princess in a tower. He would slay dragons and clash with enemies. He would march through the bodies of the slain, remnants of his glory. He would kneel down and kiss her hand, swearing his knight's oath that she would always be protected, the fair princess of Burgess Rosie Overland. She would laugh along with him as he scooped her up into his arms, swinging her around.

Rosie was exactly like her elder brother in every way. They looked similar. They acted similar. He would prank her. She would prank him back. She was clever, very clever for her age. He loved the challenge it posed. Jack would usually light the first spark, waking up early to slip a spider under her pillow in the morning, or steal her shoelaces. She would never get mad, just fight back harder. A spark turned into a flame, and the flame turned into a raging fire before dying down and the siblings were back to playing hopscotch on the road. Their parents never knew which version of their children they'd see that day. One minute they were viciously attacking the other, and the next, Jack would be reading little Rosie stories while stroking her hair. They seemed to be inseparable, and though sometimes he would mock-complain about it, he really didn't want it any other way. She was a routine he'd like to keep.

Rosie would keep Jack company, make him laugh, join in on his snowball raids, and in return he'd slay any dragons she encountered. One of his fondest memories was when he had knocked a pair of older kids out using some very well-aimed shoes after they had cornered his darling little sister for whatever reason. She looked scared, and he didn't want to find out why. It wasn't that part that made it so special to him, though, even if he, daresay, had impeccable aim. It wasn't the aftermath, when she ran into his arms, thanking him over and over again. It wasn't the look on the enemy's face while they were carried away to the police office, when they found out they were beat by a boy and his shoes. It was the sheer terror that he felt through his bones when he heard those little, heart-wrenching sobs that echoed through the alley. It was the feeling that the sky was crashing down on him, the way that every footfall seemed painfully heavy. It was that it was the only time he felt regret. It was the realization, in that moment, that he had taken Rosie for far too granted, when he understood how earth-shatteringly important his little sister was.

Jackson Overland loved life, but he loved his sister more.

That's why, when the thin ice cracked beneath her feet, he didn't hesitate one bit. And that's why, when he felt the frozen pond buckle underneath his weight, when he felt the frigid cold around him, he felt no fear. He was always going to be her knight in silver armour, and she was always going to be his princess.

* * *

_Written by Cinna._


End file.
